Clever Girls
by Fairy.Kai
Summary: Three clever girls. Three generations. Three mistakes. But just how did these errors alter the lives of Minerva McGonagall, Lily Evans and Hermione Granger? Three-shot.
1. Minerva

**Clever Girls**

**_Minerva McGonagall_**

It started with one mistake. It always does. _Love_. The ultimate weakness. And she fell in love with the one man who had the power to destroy her. Perhaps she was not such a clever girl, after all.

And her choice led to a life of loneliness, fear and heartache...

**O O O**

I grabbed his arm.

"Let go, Min," he snarled viciously at me, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. I saw his other hand flick to his robes, no doubt to draw his wand. He did not care for duelling a girl; he knew we were even on such a battlefield.

"Tom," I whispered brokenly. "I don't understand..."

His handsome face scrunched up in hatred and he seemed to forget that we were standing in the Transfigurations corridor at Hogwarts in the middle of the night. He would never let his carefully controlled features get the better of him with anyone but me. I had always thought that his guard lowered around me. I was wrong. It was higher; not merely a defence, but a diversion.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Min, I just don't love you. I don't love anyone and I don't plan on changing that any time soon. Get off me!"

I could feel tears beginning to roll from my dark navy eyes. Seeing this, Tom sneered. "Stop crying, Minerva. You're better than that. Don't lower yourself."

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes, hating the feeling of being inferior to him. We had been equals... once.

"I don't see how it lessens me, Tom. Emotion is not a weakness..."

At this, he threw his dark head back and laughed, the pale skin of his firmly chiselled jaw glinting in the torchlight. "Ahh, very wise, Minerva. Must be derived from your name, I suppose? The Roman Goddess of Wisdom. How... interesting. Unfortunately, I do not give a damn. So, if you will please leave me alone now, consider it much appreciated."

My brows furrowed and I reached to tuck a lock of stray raven hair behind my ear. I had not followed him down here to be rejected. It was the last night of our Seventh Year; I had not intended to spend it crying.

Tom raised a delicate eyebrow at me, obviously expecting me to argue with him. Disappointed (he could always count on me for a good heated discussion), he turned and walked off.

I stayed. I shouldn't have. I should have followed after him. But I stayed.

I stayed for so long; minutes grew into hours and eventually I sat down, settling myself in the middle of the Transfiguration corridor, holding my knees to my chest and sobbing.

I was a seventeen year old girl who had fallen in love.

And Tom Riddle was a difficult man to love.

I didn't care that my feelings were not reciprocated; I did not care that he could not find it within himself to love me. I only cared that he was about to leave the school and go down a destructive path that I didn't want him to.

Evil...

I had always seen his dark streak, I had respected it. From darkness comes power, for those strong enough to wield it. But I was not sure that Tom had that inner strength. I knew his weaknesses and he had told me his faults. I knew that he would be consumed by lust for power. I knew, but let him aim for it anyway.

I could not stop him. I did not think anyone could.

"Minerva?" I heard a voice from just behind me. I didn't look around, thinking that if it was that little (or rather, particularly large) Hufflepuff boy I helped earlier, Rebeus Hamrid, or whatever his name was, that I had best ignore him. "Miss McGonagall?"

Now it sounded more like a teacher. _Where was I?_ I pondered, sitting up. Transfigurations corridor. Ohh...

"Professor Dumbledore?" I responded, turning around and standing up.

My favourite teacher (Transfigurations) was standing at the doorway to the classroom, a pensive frown on his face. His long, ashy-grey beard was tucked into an indigo belt that was clasped around offensively bright magenta robes. "Are you alright, Minerva?" he enquired politely, stepping forward.

I nodded, hoping to Merlin that my eyes were not red and puffy. "Yes, sir. I was just... having a think."

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Invasive thought comes in the strangest of places, doesn't it? Just the other day, I was meandering down near the Quidditch changing rooms and felt that I just needed a little ponder in the empty locker room... Quite delightful when things come to you like that."

I blinked, processing my kooky teacher's words. Dumbledore was brilliant, but strangely mental at the same time. Still brilliant though. "Yes, it is."

"Is there anything you would like to talk about, Minerva? The Head Girl should not be thinking alone after curfew on the last night of the year. Is something wrong?"

I swallowed. No, I just confessed my love to a boy who is apparently incapable of emotions other than hatred and aggression and watched him walk away from me forever... Nothing wrong at all. "No, sir. I just had a conversation with someone that really should never have occurred in the first place."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see," he replied softly.

"Well, good night, sir. Thank you for... everything, I suppose," I smiled brightly at him, my favourite teacher, thinking to myself that Albus Dumbledore was someone to aspire to.

He chuckled. "Oh no, Minerva, no need. It is a pleasure to watch students like you go through these halls... it makes it worth it. I look forward to watching your life progress. Such a wonderful thing... time."

I grinned at him and turned to walk away, sensing an end to the conversation.

"Oh, and Minerva?"

I turned, looking at him quizzically. "Yes, sir?"

"Just remember, that although someone might not feel something for you, knowing that you felt something as powerful as love for them might just save them during a difficult time in their lives. You should be glad that you can offer solace. That you have the ability to give such a gift to a person you care for should comfort you in a very dark time. Remember that."

I thought for a second, analysing his words. He had heard my confession to Tom? "Thank you, Professor."

I turned and walked away, a soft frown on my delicate features, freeing myself of the pain I had felt for four years.

Dumbledore's words made sense to me, I realised upon entering the Gryffindor Girls dormitories. The others were asleep; it was well after midnight.

Tom Riddle was going to suffer his entire life, I knew it. He was not yet aware of the repercussions of his sinister choices, but I was. He was only going to discover pain and loneliness on his quest for domination and immortality.

But one day, probably in the far future, when he was alone and unhappy, a broken man beyond repair, a soulless person, he would remember that someone had loved him and maybe that would bring him some peace.

That was all that I could hope for; that my love for Tom Riddle would one day give him peace in the sense that he knew that _someone_, even if it was only me, a mere girl of seventeen, had once loved him.

**O O O**

Sighing, Minerva McGonagall stared down at her aged, wrinkled hands. She was sitting in her office before a heartily crackling fire, drinking a cup of finely aged mead. Her eyes drifted closed behind her spectacles, and she sank down in her chair, lost in thought and memories.

Today had been horrible for her. The final battle, the end of Voldemort. It had been awful. All those lives lost...

She couldn't help but feel partly responsible. She had allowed Tom to leave, she had let him, knowing that he would no doubt persue a life of wickedry and hatred. And he had. He had caused all this.

This inexcusable loss of life.

She felt a twinge of shame, for ever considering to love him in the first place.

But she couldn't help it. She _still_ couldn't help it.

Love was a funny thing and so was time. Both as hard to hold on to as smoke, but as consuming as fire.

Minerva McGonagall had loved Tom Riddle for nearly sixty years. Even after everything he had done, the atrocities he had committed, the lives he had ruined.

She hated herself for it.

And as such, she had lived the life that she had predicted for him. Her life had been lonely, fear filled, painful. She had endured what should have been his. And it was all because of one mistake.

Despite Albus' teachings on love being a wondrous thing, in her life, it had been a mistake. It had had been an error. A single blunder that changed her future. And not necessarily for the better.

Love had destroyed her.

_No_, she corrected herself, her navy eyes snapping open. _Tom Riddle had destroyed her._

And yet, Minerva McGonagall loved him anyway.

**AN: Ahh yes, let's not hate me for getting distracted from darling Violent. It's coming, I promise. **

**So this is the first in a three shot that I have had sitting, collecting dust on my desktop for a while now. So this was Minerva. And I think (for those of you who remember my tormented ANs from Violent Deception/Deliverance) I _think_ I finally cracked the character of Albus Dumbledore. Gosh, that man gives me grief. I can never get him to be appropriately wacky and yet still very, very wise, but I think I managed to in _Clever Girls._ Correct me if I am wrong, though (in a review ^_^ ) I shall most likely be posting a banner on my profile very soon, so if you're into that, keep an eye out.**

**Next up, we have Lily Evans (for all those James/Lily shippers out there, yes I _know_ they're, like, the most adorable couple in the world) and finally Hermione Granger. **

**Go on, tell me that you're looking forward to it! **

**(Oh, and some shameless self-advertising while I am, in fact, here: I will be posting a short story very soon. Very unique, I promise. The two mains are Lily Potter II and Bellatrix Lestrange. Yes I know, it's a strange character set, but it works, I'm telling you! It's called _Afterimage_, so look out!)**

**xx (apologies for the hideously long AN)**


	2. Lily

**Clever Girls**

_**Lily Evans**_

It started with one mistake. It always does. _Love_. The ultimate weakness. I fell in love with the one man who had the power to adore me. Perhaps I was not such a clever girl, after all.

And my choice led to a life of love, loss and destruction...

**OOO**

On the blindingly cold night of the thirty-first of October, 1981, I woke to the sound of my son giggling like a mad hinkypunk. It wasn't unusual. Harry found such amusement in the glow-in-the-dark stars I had stuck to his ceiling. My eyes still heavy from sleep, I rolled over. Blinking in the pitch darkness, I whispered, "James? James, Harry's awake."

There was no response. Frowning, I reached over to the other side of the bed, planning to tap my husband's shoulder. But my hand met nothing but air. I lay there for a few moments, thinking that James had already heard Harry, and gotten up to put our one-year –old back to sleep.

I grabbed my wand from the bedside table, and with a groan, I pushed the blankets back. I hissed as the cold air bit into my skin.

"Lumos," I whispered as I stood up. I padded slowly out of our bedroom and down the hallway. The house was dark and nearly silent, save for my son's incessant giggling and what I recognised to be James' soft murmuring.

I pushed open the door of the nursery, and a smile appeared on my face at the sight before me. Harry was standing in his cot, laughing, whilst James made funny faces and sounds at him. I stood there for a few minutes, thinking about my incredible luck to have such a beautiful, loving family.

And then my smile hardened as I forced it to stay in place. I didn't like to think of it, but the thought of Voldemort flitted across my mind. He was looking for us; he wanted us dead. The cold, hard truth of the matter was that we were in hiding, waiting for someone to tell us that everything was alright. James no longer worked, neither of us went on Raids for the Order anymore and we hardly saw our friends.

These were dark times, and it was almost a curse to be living in them. But another glance at my family told me that it could never be a curse. I should never regret living.

"Lils?"

I blinked, my green almond eyes focusing once more. James was looking at me, having noticed my presence after a good five minutes.

"Hey," I said with a smile. I stepped forward and dropped to my knees in front of the cot, beside my husband. He grinned at me and draped an arm over my shoulders.

"You know, Harry," he said in his best debonair voice. "Your mum is very, _very_ pretty."

Harry laughed, not understanding the words, but finding his parents amusing anyway.

I smiled and elbowed James. "He's pulling your leg, baby," I responded with a grin as I rested my arms on the cot. Harry started to fiddle with my wedding ring. "Because, really, your dad's the handsome one."

James winked at me. "Yeah. You're lucky Harry. With parents like us, you're definitely going to be good-looking. And Uncle Sirius will make sure to teach all the ways to charm the girls so that –"

"Oh, hush," I interrupted him, laughing. "We can have this discussion in fifteen years, not now."

Harry blinked; his green eyes that were so extraordinarily like mine were bright with glee. I wondered if he understood us.

"And your mum's really smart," continued James. "So you're probably going to get all Outstandings in your OWLs. But don't worry, Dad will still love you."

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous game we were playing. "And your dad was the best Chaser Gryffindor ever had, so maybe you'll be a star Quidditch player, too."

James adjusted his glasses. "Seriously, mate, it's the coolest thing ever."

I beamed at him, remembering the day I finally agreed to go out with him. It was after he'd won the final match of the year. I could still picture with precise detail the smile he had worn that day. Corny as it sounded, that smile melted my heart in less than thirteen seconds.

Harry yawned and I leaned over and helped him as he snuggled under his blankets. He was asleep within moments. I stood up and James followed me to the door.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" I asked him as we walked down the hallway. James nodded and grasped my hand until we got to the kitchen.

I flicked my wand at the kettle and James wrapped his arms around my waist as we waited for the water to boil. He placed gentle, tender kisses along my chin, his glasses bumping my nose.

"I love you, Lily Potter," he said adoringly. But his voice held so much more than just adoration. His husky tone had an undercurrent of something else. Something frightening. Something I couldn't place.

But I smiled anyway, because I knew without a doubt that he meant it. "And I love you, James."

The kettle began to whistle shrilly and I turned and stepped out of my husband's loving arms to prepare the tea.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James watching me as he leaned against the marble countertop. Suddenly, I heard a crash from the front room, and the teacups I had been levitating fell to the floor. My eyes widened and I spun around to see James running from the kitchen. He disappeared around the corner, and though I didn't know it then, that was the last time I saw my husband alive.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -" James shouted. I screamed when I heard the dull thump of my husband's body falling to the ground as it echoed through the small cottage. Crying, I took off around the other corner and ran back to Harry's room.

I placed myself in front of my son's cot, tears streaming down my face. I stared at the closed bedroom door, gulping with fear. How did he know? How did Voldemort know where we were? He couldn't possibly know...

I heard soft footfalls in the hallway beyond the door and I expelled a shaky breath. I levelled my wand at the doorway, preparing to blast him as soon as he opened it.

It burst open and a red light flashed. My wand flew from my hand; I screamed.

He stepped into the room, his cloak drawn tightly about him. A cackling laugh escaped the lips that I could not see.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" I cried, positioning myself in front of the cot. I could feel my son's hands pressing into my back as he tried to peer around me.

_No. No, this can't happen to him. No. James!_

"Stand aside you silly girl … stand aside now," he demanded.

I kept repeating my mantra, knowing that it was useless. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"

He took a step forward, his arm raised, his wand pointed beyond me.

I was about to throw myself at my knees before him; I was not above begging, but I knew that it would give him a clear shot at my son. I stayed upright. "Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy…"

He laughed again in that shrill hissing voice he possessed.

"Avada kedavra!"

I screamed as a whooshing sound filled my ears and the room was filled with a blinding emerald light.

My last thought as my heart stopped was of my wedding day.

_Until death do you part_...

**OOO**

Lily Potter stared down from her window. The little house she lived in with her husband was quiet today – James was asleep. Like every other day, Lily was leaning against the windowsill, staring out across the picturesque lake. She had no idea what this place was; she had no idea how long she had been here for. It was hard to tell the time in this place of never ending daylight.

It was one dawn after another, and never a sunset.

Heaven, James called it. She disagreed. She saw it almost like a prison, never being able to leave the house. Not eating or drinking. No night time. No stars or moon.

Her brows furrowed as another memory onslaught begged her attention. She liked to think about her life when James was sleeping. It kept her sane. She thought about her school years at Hogwarts, she thought about her sister and that annoying boyfriend of hers. She thought about her parents. She thought about Sev, her very best friend. She thought about Alice and Frank and their son, Neville, and she thought of Sirius, Remus and Peter. She thought about Harry. Her son. Her beautiful, green-eyed son.

But it was all lost to her. She could no longer see them. She didn't know if Harry was alive, she didn't know much at all really.

Lily wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if she'd never agreed to go out with James, after that Quidditch match.

She probably would have left Hogwarts, worked for a few years, met some bloke and married him, started a family. She could scarcely picture it. Actually, she didn't want to.

She loved James with everything she had. Lily would die for her son. And she had.

A breathy sigh escaped her lips. She hated the thoughts of what could have been. James adored her, loved her with his entire soul and being. But perhaps if he hadn't loved her so, neither of them would be dead. They wouldn't have gotten married and wouldn't have been in hiding that night.

But Harry wouldn't exist.

No, she could never regret her love for James Potter, even though it killed her.

His love had destroyed her with its intense power. They were both gone from that world because of their all-consuming love.

But she didn't care.

Lily loved him anyway.

**AN: It's heeeerrrrrre!**

**Did anyone cry? I did. Even though it had already happened in the books, I still sniffled a little. **

**Anyone seen in the Prisoner of Azkaban (the movie)? You know where Lupin is teaching Harry about Patronuses and Harry uses a memory he has of a conversation between his parents? Yeah, this was it. In case anyone was wondering...**

**I saw the new movie!! The cinema was so packed. What did everyone think of it? I was a little disappointed that they didn't put Dumbledore's funeral and the white tomb in at the end, even though all the students raised their wands and did the tribute thing...**

**Please review! Next we have Hermione Granger! **

**xx**


	3. Hermione

**Clever Girls**

_**Hermione Granger**_

It started with one mistake. It always does. _Love_. The ultimate weakness. I fell in love with the one man who had the power to abandon me. Perhaps I was not such a clever girl, after all.

And my choice led to a life of regret, strength and new hope...

**O O O**

"You're leaving?" I gasped, shock leaking through each syllable. The book I had been reading on centaur riots fell from my hand. It made a thud on the floor and I flinched, hoping that it hadn't been damaged.

He was standing in the kitchen of the small London flat that we had shared for two years. His pale hands were wrapped around his worn cloak, and he was twisting it in frustration.

"You're leaving." I repeated it with no inflection, stunned to my core.

"Hermione, I can't stay, you have to understand, I –"

I took a step forward, towards him, and he almost looked afraid. The cloak drifted to the floor. "No!" I cried. "This is because of your parents, isn't it? You said you didn't care? I thought you didn't care!"

An overwhelming sense of hurt and betrayal rose up, much like the sour bile in my throat. No. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening to me. To _us_.

His brows furrowed, and I could see the war behind his metallic eyes. I could see how much it was hurting him to say this. He couldn't possibly mean it.

"Hermione," Draco Malfoy breathed, stepping forward over his dropped cloak to meet me. His hands wound around my mine, effectively pulling me closer to him. His pad of his thumb grazed the stunning diamond ring that adorned the fourth finger of my left hand. "I love you."

His head ducked down and he pressed his soft lips against mine in a searing kiss that made my knees weak. I clutched his neck and held him closer, hoping that I could lock him in my arms forever. I wished there was a spell that would make him stay, make him love me unconditionally. But there isn't, and he couldn't and when Draco pulled away I could barely breathe because I was sobbing so hard. His hands found mine once more.

My brown eyes burned, and I couldn't help but be revolted by my tears. _He doesn't deserve them if he's leaving me_, I told myself. But I knew that they bothered him. He always hated seeing me cry. I had thought that it was because of his lonely childhood, that raw emotion affected him so. But Draco told me once that that wasn't the case – he hated watching me cry because it made him feel helpless, like he should be crying with me.

"Then why are you leaving? I don't understand..." my voice cracked on the last word and he pulled me to his chest.

With my cheek pressed against his chest, I listened to the uneven beating of his heart. I turned my face and pressed my lips to the hollow of his throat. He flinched.

He_ flinched_.

He had never cringed away from my kisses and I was horrified at the thought of it. He had kissed me before, but now I recognised it as a goodbye kiss. He was leaving, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I was honest with myself, I had always known that this day was coming. I knew him too well. I knew _us_ too well. He'd been distant and withdrawn for months... I should have seen it. I should have tried harder.

"Is it the money?" I asked, pulling my hand from his and wiping it across my cheeks as tears swam down my skin. "You want your inheritance and you can't get it when you're engaged to a Mudblood? Is that it?"

Silence.

He didn't even try to deny it. He didn't even correct me and say, "Muggleborn."

I had always known he was selfish and spoilt – he was a Malfoy, for crying out loud. But I honestly thought that he loved me. He left his fortune, his parents, his entire _life_ just to be with me.

But it wasn't enough.

I didn't give him enough.

"I love you, Hermione," he said again. I squeezed my eyes shut as he tugged at my finger, pulling the ring off. "But I can't do this. I can't give you my life."

"I'm not asking for your life," I cried, my fist flying against his chest. "I just want you to love me!" I pounded against him again and again.

"I do love you. But it's not enough," he insisted, stepping back. "For either of us."

He picked up his cloak.

"Draco, please," I had never begged him before. But now I would have crawled on my knees if it meant he would stay with me.

He said nothing and walked towards my door, he flung it open and stepped outside. He turned and I froze. He shot me the barest of smiles, as if he was filing away the memory of me standing there, crying, so that he could look back and regret it. I hoped that one day he does regret it.

Draco disapparated and I knew that the echoing _crack_ would haunt my dreams for years to come.

I turned and threw myself onto my sofa, screaming wordlessly in hurt and rage. My nerve endings were on fire, but my mind was strangely blank. I wanted to sleep. Sleep without thought, without dreams, without the fear of waking up.

I lay on that sofa for two days, alternating between sleeping and staring at the ceiling. I had never felt so tired.

*** * ***

"Hermione?"

There was someone standing over me. His red hair seemed to shimmer from my tear-filled eyes.

"Mione, are you okay?"

Ron.

I smiled softly.

I should have known he'd be here. He was always here when I needed him the most. I just never realised.

"Ron," I breathed.

He smiled and crouched down in front of the sofa, his face not far from my own. "Mione, love, you can stop crying now." I shook my head, my wild brown curls tossing against the sofa cover.

"He's gone," Ron said simply, as if that were not the reason for my pain-soaked sobs. "He's gone, so you can let yourself be happy again."

I thought about what he was saying. Ron and Harry had always hated Draco's presence in my life. They always said that I was different around him; cooler, calmer.

But he was gone now, and although it was a long time coming, Ron was still here. Waiting for me to come to my senses.

In the back of my mind, I was glad I did leave that cool, calm girl behind.

I could be Hermione again.

**O O O**

Hermione Weasley's wise brown eyes moved over the crisp, white piece of parchment. She leaned against the fireplace with a glass of wine in one hand, the letter in the other, and a pensive look on her features.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know this is seventeen years too late but you should know that I'm sorry. It doesn't make it better, or excuse it, but I am sorry._

_You were ideal for me – the person I needed the most. But I wasn't right for you, and I always saw that. You always told me that my quest for perfection would be my undoing, and it was. I just never realised it. I've been looking for it all my life, and I never once recognised perfection for what it was. You. It has always been you._

_I know that you hate me, you have every reason to. I left you for the money of my family, but I want you to know that I have loved you since –_

"What a load of codswallop," she muttered, scrunching up the piece of parchment.

"What's that, love?" Ron asked, stepping down the stairs. He had been putting Hugo to bed and assuring Rose that all her books had been packed – it was her first year at Hogwarts, as of tomorrow, and the little girl was as stressed as a centaur in daylight.

"A love letter from Draco Malfoy," Hermione snorted as she tossed it into the fire. "Merlin, he's a conceited toerag. We were together _seventeen years ago_. And he dumped me."

Ron laughed, the tension visibly leaving his body. He walked over to the fireplace and wrapped his arms around his wife, squeezing her small frame.

"Seriously though," she continued. "Why didn't you and Harry tell me that he was such a git? You could have saved me all this trouble."

Ron raised an eyebrow and snorted. "You must be forgetting, love. I told you every bleeding day. And Harry charmed your bathroom mirror to sing to you in the morning 'Draco Malfoy is a selfish prat' and we also took turns following you on your dates."

She chuckled, remembering that blasted mirror. It had taken her two days to fix. "I knew there was a reason he tripped over so much..."

"And the hives he broke out in, that time in Hogsmeade," sighed Ron happily, as if recalling a pleasant memory. They both laughed.

"Well, Mione, my love," said Ron, grinning from ear to ear. "You must be so thankful that I love you and not that arrogant git... although he does too."

She smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. "Lucky then, I suppose, that I love you and not him."

He was about to kiss her again when there was a tapping at the window. Hermione went and let the great barn owl in, untying the letter from his leg. Ron growled, "I swear to Merlin, if that is your sodding ex-fiancé again, I will personally go over to his bleeding Manor and hex his scrawny –"

"Ron," Hermione gasped as she read the first paragraph of the long piece if parchment. Shock filled her face and she clutched a hand to her mouth.

"What is it?" her husband asked, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

"It's from some solicitor... Oh, my - Professor McGonagall died this morning..."

"What?!" he exclaimed, moving over to her to read it over her shoulder. But she handed it to him and stepped back, shaking her head as if to say, "I can't read this."

Ron scanned the rest of the letter, his blue eyes widening in disbelief.

"What is it?" she asked gingerly, still reeling from the shock. Minerva McGonagall had been a woman she truly admired, and was privileged enough to call 'friend'. This was so unexpected and Hermione's knees seemed to shake from the surprise of it. Minerva had died from a stroke, early this morning.

"Mione," said Ron, lowering the piece of parchment and his sapphire eyes found her own. "She left everything to you."

"What?!" cried Hermione, jumping forward. "Why?"

Ron blinked. "That's not all of it, love. She's asked for you to be her predecessor. She wants you to be Headmistress of Hogwarts."

Hermione stared at him, sadness filling her being, not truly comprehending what he was saying to her. She placed her head in her hands and closed her eyes.

The cleverest woman Hermione Granger had ever known was gone.

**AN: Finished! Ta-daaah! Ah yes, dear Hermione, our third generation of this story. Originally, I was going to have Draco and Mione meet again at Platform 9 3/4 on Rose's first day of school, but I decided not to. I must admit, I'm rather a fan of dramione, and I might have ruined myself by having her leave Ron and run off with Draco. So when I deleted that scene, I had to go back and make him less likeable, just so I wouldn't give into him. For a fictional character, Draco Malfoy sure is good at corrupting me... **

**I was also going to have the chapter ending the same as the other two - with something along the lines of "I loved him anyway", as it was for Minerva and Lily. But, again, I changed my mind at the final moment, and killed off Professor McGonagall instead. Sorry! I wanted to tie them together slightly, rather than having three semi-related one shots. **

**Please tell me what you think! Was Draco 'spoiled brat' enough for you? Was Ron totally adorable? ;) and overall, did you enjoy this story?**

**xx thank you to all my reviewers!**


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